Amy Kellogg — Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko announced Wednesday that he is pardoning another 30 political prisoners, the third such prisoner release in the past three months.

The names of those released were not published, but the country’s most famous prisoner of conscience, prominent opposition figure Maria Kalesnikava, is not expected to be included. She was part of the troika of women including Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya and Veronika Tsepkalo who ran a united campaign for change against Lukashenko in the 2020 presidential election.

Even so, Kalesnikava’s sister Tanya Khomich is hoping the recent pardons are a signal to the world that Lukashenko may be ready to bargain for the freedom of other political prisoners in exchange for some sort of concessions.

Khomich also hopes that Luksashenko, who has held power in Belarus for the last 30 years, may be thinking of his own future, and could be open to appeals from Western countries to release the prisoners.

“Luksashenko doesn’t want to be forgotten once peace happens with Ukraine,” Komich told VOA. “He doesn’t want Belarus to be swallowed altogether by Russia either.”

There is mounting urgency in Kalesnikava’s case, because she and Belarus’ highest-profile prisoners have been held incommunicado for nearly 600 days. People close to them say there is a terrifying total blackout on any official details about their conditions.

Kalesnikava, along with Tsikhanouskaya’s husband Siarhei Tsikhanouski, 2022 Nobel Peace Prize winner Ales Bialiatski and others, have been denied letters, lawyer visits and phone calls, according to supporters and families.

But whispers always manage to escape prison walls, and the latest to reach Khomich is that the1.7 meter tall Kalesnikava now weighs under 45 kilograms and is unsure she will make it out of detention alive.

“Just imagine,” Khomich said. “It is the 21st century, we are in the center of Europe and someone is starving. Maria is kept incommunicado. Please don’t let her die of hunger.”

Kalesnikava, who became critically ill in prison from a perforated ulcer, needs a special diet that is not provided for her, according to her sister.

Franak Viacorka, a senior adviser to government-in-exile chief Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya, feels equal urgency about freeing political prisoners.

He said the 30 names on the list were serving short terms and were in for more minor “offenses,” such as commenting or liking anti-regime posts on social media. And while he says he is happy about anyone getting out of prison, he suggested the pardons are not a sign that Lukashenko is softening his stance, but simply attempting to clean up his image.

“State propaganda advertises this as a big humanitarian gesture by the regime,” Viacorka said. “It’s Lukashenko’s act before so-called elections next year to show how human he is and that he cares about people, because even his supporters are not happy about the cruel repressions that are taking place.”

Viacorka also said international diplomatic pressure was involved in Lukashenko’s move to pardon the 30 political prisoners, but that domestic public opinion also played a role. He noted that those pardoned will not be entirely “free,” but released from prison and monitored via secret services, with some possibly blocked from leaving the country.

“Most of them were forced to write a pardon letter to Lukashenko and confess to crimes they never committed,” he said. “This is also a form of humiliation for the people, but it also shows Lukashenko very well. He wants people to recognize his power. To humiliate them and make them recognize his power.”

Despite the pardons, Viacorka says the human rights situation in Belarus has deteriorated lately, with jail terms increasing from a few to 10 or 15 years. Political prisoners are forced to wear yellow badges so that other detainees know not to talk to them in the event of a chance encounter.

“They want to break them emotionally,” Tanya Khomich said, noting that her imprisoned sister alternates between an “isolation cell” and a “punishment cell,” describing each as small fetid rooms with hole-in-the-floor toilets. A major difference, Khomich said, is that in the isolation cell, Maria Kalesnikava can have her toothbrush and soap, while in the punishment cell, she is not allowed any personal items.

With repression this intense and the Belarusian KGB vigorously and effectively monitoring electronic communications, Viacorka said, opposition activity is now happening “offline.”

“People meet in private apartments, they distribute samizdat,” he said, describing clandestinely self-published material. “There are plenty of cyber partisans too. Belarus has good hackers.”

According to Viacorka, many of these “cyber partisans” are state employees that secretly help the opposition, which provides Western countries information about what and whom in Belarus to sanction. There are also groups trying to assist Ukrainians and to keep Belarus officially out of Russia’s war on Ukraine.

Still, Viacorka said the opposition in exile is actively discouraging people inside Belarus from engaging in any open political activity at this moment of chaos, with war ongoing in Ukraine.

“We shouldn’t sacrifice people lightly while we don’t have clarity,” he said. “Lukashenko makes mistakes. We want to be ready when the moment is right. Right now, we are at the peak of terror.”

And while Lukashenko’s regime has silenced Maria Kalesnikava and other opposition activists by jailing them, the Belarusian people have not forgotten these prisoners, Viacorka said.

Noting the prominent role that women play in the opposition, he added: “I see what they say about woman power. The toxic masculinity of Lukashenko versus the female empathy of our leaders is what makes our movement so sustainable.”